A Day as Ray Mond

One-Shot

My consciousness flickered like a faulty lightbulb in the dim expanse. My eyes are open but it still feels like a dream. I find myself in the Gwurls bedroom. I hesitated, the stillness of the morning wrapping around me as I tiptoed across the plush carpet and into the bathroom. The mirror caught my gaze—it wasn't my reflection staring back but Ray Mond's. Her familiar features were now mine to command, her brown eyes a window to a soul that wasn't my own. A shiver ran down my spine; this was no ordinary dream. It was lucid, vivid, ensnaring all my senses.

"Need to stop those late-night streams," I murmured to the reflection, my voice a perfect echo of Ray's. The thought vanished as quickly as it formed, my mind already racing ahead with plans for the day—a day that belonged solely to me.

Slipping out of Grove street, the quiet hum of the city greeted me. My feet carried me effortlessly to a nearby clothing store, the door chiming as I entered. With a sense of urgency, I assembled a new outfit: gray boiler suit pants, a matching long shirt, a bandana to conceal my face, and a baseball cap pulled snug over a hastily tied ponytail. In this monochrome palette, I was just another shadow among many, boring to any prying eyes.

"Better than any invisibility cloak," I whispered, reassuring myself from the fear of being caught taking over Ray Mond's body. I may not have control of my dreams, but I knew Ray Mond had very loyal friends that were on the act first ask questions later and I was hoping on keeping her body the safe while still seeing the beauty of Los Santos. Flexing my fingers, Ray's voice continued to flow from my lips, but with a twist—I let a Spanish accent roll off my tongue, each practice word a protective barrier to knowledge that did not belong to Ray Mond.

The beach beckoned like a siren call, pulling me towards sandy shores and the promise of a very fun time. My heart set on a bike, I envisioned the wind tangling through my—no, Ray's—hair, the salty air filling my lungs, the freedom of empty beaches. There was an entire city to explore, landmarks to see, driving to enjoy, and a giggly desire to stand upon a stage in Stab city, experiencing singing with a melodious new voice. Music that would help me carry away the impossibility of it all.

"Today, I am the one behind the wheel," I declared to the empty street, determination fueling my steps. "Today, I'm just me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In the apartments~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I navigated the phone's interface with familiarity. Crafting messages meant to buy me precious hours of anonymity. To Chatterbox: "Not feeling well today. I'm staying home, try to have fun today :)" And to Max: "I'm staying asleep today, not feeling great. Have a good day ;)". Sent.

Satisfied, I stashed Ray's phone back on the backpack. I rifled through her pockets, carefully removing every item—keys, wallet, odd bits of paper—and placed them in a neat pile on the dresser. Each object felt heavy with significance, weighted by a life that wasn't mine to lead. With everything accounted for, I left the apartment, ensuring the door clicked shut behind me.

I approached the apartment elevator. That's when I spotted Scruffy Doodle, his presence an unexpected variable in my plan for inconspicuous exploration.

"Hi neighbor," I called out, a friendly smile plastered on my face. "I like your shirt, pastel colors look good on you."

His acknowledgment was a brief nod before he disappeared into the elevator, leaving me alone in the corridor. The closing elevator doors sounded like a gunshot in my ears as they closed on Scruffy Doodle's parting words. "I have wifes, don't come close to me." The statement hung in the air, an emblem of misunderstanding and misplaced intent.

Stunned silence enveloped me as I stood there, the echo of the elevator moving reverberating through the sterile hallway. A tightness coiled around my chest, a knot of nerves and a sting of rejection lingering in my mind.